


brutality

by Hermia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermia/pseuds/Hermia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he doesn’t want her. he wants her. she wants him. she takes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brutality

**Author's Note:**

> alright, prefacing this with a reminder that both of us adore kate. we didn't write this because we hate her; we wrote this because we enjoy the good and the bad of her relationship with derek. this fic just happens to highlight the bad. 
> 
> any kate hate in the comments will be deleted!

Kate had a very long, very _interesting_ list of things that turned her on. Sitting in a basement surrounded by the sour smell of mildew and the occasional rattle of Derek's breathing was unsurprisingly absent.

Still, unable to sit on her ass for longer than necessary, she found herself on her feet, walking the width of the underground room and sparing the occasional glance towards her captive. The warm, portable lighting favored him, casting an orange glow on his skin and creating shadows as thick and dark as those that held the corners of the basement together. And, god, that skin – his skin was coated in a sheen of sweat she could still taste when she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. 

With his hands shackled above his head, muscles straining to compensate and face slack with concentration, she'd only ever seen him look so vulnerable a handful of times before. Most recently, in the scorched remains of his house just above their head. Before that, the day after the fire, two hours before he left Beacon Hills with Laura. And even farther back, the first time they had sex. 

More specifically, the first time she wrapped her mouth around his cock.

Kate licked her lips at the thought. Six years might've filled him out. They might've seen him grow taller and stronger and faster and more reserved. But nothing could take away that face, the utterly boyish, I-don't-know-what-to-do face. He was better at masking the expression now, but she could see it in those pale, gray-green eyes of his.

He was lost. And while she wasn't interested in helping him find himself, she was up for a little reminiscing.

Stepping up in front of him, Kate slid her hands into the back pockets of her low-slung jeans. Up close, the sweat clinging to his forehead caught the light, swollen and ready to drip down the curves of his face due to the temperature of the basement. The electricity being pumped into his body at a low, but throbbing hum probably didn't help.

“ _Derek_ ,” Kate singsonged as she moved even closer, her boots scuffing on the cement beneath their soles. “Look at me, sweetie. I've been thinking about something, and I was kinda hoping you'd remember, too.”

Derek's jaw clenched. 

He didn't look at her, and Kate huffed quietly. “Come on, no need to be rude. It's not about the fire or anything.”

Those soft gray-green eyes she had been admiring focused on her, narrowed under thick lashes. “I'm _not_ here for your entertainment,” he said, voice low and contained. His restraint had improved over the years. “If you're bored, go read a book. _The Temple of the Gold Pavilion_ is probably something you'd like.” His lips twitched. “Crazy loner kid growing up wishing people would love him, ends up setting fire to anything beautiful he sees.”  


The chains jangled as he shrugged. “Can't control it, so may as well destroy it. You're familiar with the concept.” 

Kate lifted one shoulder as her face shifted from teasing to remarkably sincere. “Interesting comparison, but no dice. I could've controlled you if I wanted to.” She tilted her chin up, her eyes latching onto his in a way that refused to allow them to move away. A smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Lord knows I wasn't just _wishing_ you'd love me.”

Sighing, she shook her head and leaned the slightest bit closer, wiser to the way Derek pressed back against the rusted bars despite never looking away from his face. “I'm not bored. Just feeling a little sentimental, is all.”

“Bullshit.” Derek wasn't much for cursing, but Kate always found a way. If it wasn't in the bedroom, it was out of frustration. Then out of hatred. Then out of longing. And now it was hatred again. “Stop pretending this is anything other than you having a power trip.” 

Kate grinned at him, her eyes wide and utterly guileless. “I never said it wasn't.”

Before either of them knew it, her fingers were curling around the waist of his jeans, trimmed nails dragging over the sensitive stretch of skin beneath his belly button. “I just felt like talking. You don't do much of that yourself; I have to entertain myself somehow.” 

Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she busied herself with thumbing over the button and zipper keeping his pants up around his hips. Minutes of silence swallowed the distance between them, every second that ticked by filling up what was left of the empty space with anticipation, and the meaty bite of fear. She needed the perfect way to introduce the subject. A way that would get him angry. A way that would get him hard, too. She needed him hard; angry was a bonus.

“I was just thinking about the first time I ever got you like this.” Two rows of straight, white teeth – blunt, but somehow deadlier than any set of fangs – tugged on her lip. “It was a _bit_ less... kinky, but you looked like a kid lost right in the middle of Disneyland. Scared out of your mind, but like you'd never been happier in your entire life.”

But Derek's first reaction wasn't anger _or_ arousal. Not yet.  


It was nothing but fear now. He remembered reading that it took seven years for your body to replace every last skin cell. That was something he clung onto desperately. He was only one year away from not having her hands on him except for in his dreams. Nightmares.  


His eyes widened and he attempted to shift his hips away. “No,” he said, the lone syllable trembling on his lips. “Don't. _Don't_ touch me.” 

Her fingers curled into the dark washed denim at his waist, tugging him gently back into position. His words rang in her ears, echoing into the hollow of a mind cleared blank of every thought otherwise. That was what happened when she met opposition; she emptied herself out, dunked herself into some holy river apart from the conscious movement of her fingertips and emerged clean of any protestations with a wider smile on her lips.

Pressing her thumb against the button, she slipped it free and took a steady breath as his jeans sunk farther down on his hips. He needed to go shopping; he was thinner than he had been when she showed up at the Hale house. 

She didn't want to make any assumptions, but the stress was doing a number on him. And his probable diet of nothing more than Bambi and Friends. This meant he was probably weaker, more susceptible to whatever she had lined up. More likely to cave once he felt her lips fluttering over his stomach.

The thought made her fingertips tingle as her index and thumb closed around the zipper and began the achingly slow descent downwards.

He continued to try and jerk away. It was violent, straining his arms, nearly jarring them out of their sockets with the amount of force he put into his movements. But she was, as always, five steps ahead of him. At least.  


The worst of it was, he could feel himself reacting. The smell of her was overwhelming, sending him right back to nights of intense sex and wicked teasing. Those deft fingers with rough calluses all over knew exactly what buttons to press, where to squeeze and where to simply glide over the skin to drive him crazy.  


Derek focused on her calluses. He had to focus. Those were a lie. He remembered asking her how she got them. Even at sixteen his own hands were laden with the rough patches of skin from a lifetime of running on all fours as well as lacrosse.  


_Rock climbing, sweetie_ , she had told him with a nuzzle to his nose. _Easy way to get some killer arms._  


God, he would've laughed if Kate wasn't palming over his swelling cock.  


“Are you really this desperate?” Derek tried another approach. One he knew had no chance of working, but wounding her pride in some fashion was all he had left. “Or was I the only teenager with the poor taste to fuck you? Can't get it from your generation, huh?” 

“Oh, honey,” Kate murmured, words interwoven with a low chuckle. There was a heat rushing into her skin through his, a warmth seeping through the thin knit of his boxer-briefs and into her palm. Her mouth watered, but instead of licking her lips again, she curled her fingers around him through the fabric, taking a breath through her nose once she realized how much thicker he was now. “It's not desperation. It was a job back then. Now I just... mm, I just want you.”

She paused, looking up at him, refusing to let go. “Now I just want it. You can't hold anything against me, considering how well puberty treated you.” Humming her under breath, her index finger slipped beneath the front closure, her nail whispering along the root of his cock. “Jesus, you get hard fast.”

Derek snapped for the second time that night, for the same reason. He lunged forward, gnashing his fangs, teeth clicking together with every bite at the air. The rush of adrenaline through his body just made him grow harder, but he ignored it. He ignored her hand, her wet lips, and the smell of her arousal and focused on the thought of her throat clamped between his teeth.  


“You can't _have me._ ” His normally soft voice was contorted with a rumble, something low and primal and spoke volumes of how much he wanted to hurt her. He _had_ to want that. Anything else was a betrayal to the people who were seared into this room with fire and blood and screams he swore he could still hear. “I don't want you.” 

Another dunk into that chilly current, and Kate was smiling again, stroking him through his underwear. “Not true,” she replied smoothly before she withdrew her hand. Maybe he thought she was pulling away or biding her time. He took a breath, though his iron grip on the chains wrapped around the bar behind his head only tightened. Like he was waiting for her to do something _and_ hoping she wasn't.

When she reached for his jeans and tugged them downward, she could taste Derek's disappointment in the air, sweet and bitter in equal measure.

“You might not want me,” Kate told him, words punctuated with each slow downward tug of his underwear. “But I can have you.”

The whimper that clawed out of his throat was nothing short of disgusted, though he couldn't tell you if it was more aimed at Kate, or at himself.  


Derek's entire body was trembling with rage: the cords of his neck twitched under his skin, his stomach muscles jumped at the slightest shift of air, and his hands gripped and strained against his bonds until they were raw. He had to get away from her. From her touch and from her _words_. He didn't need to be reminded that she could have him.  


That she _did_ have him.  


All he could do is try to keep his head held high as she looked him over, appraising every new muscle, every inch she hadn't seen before, like he was at some dog show. He could see Kate mentally checking off things in her head. It was humiliating.  


He held on to that as a flush spread up his neck. It had to be humiliation. 

Kate's skin flushed, too. For the same reason, though Derek would be quick to deny the fact. 

The basement was already hot, stuffy compared to the bite of winter air outside thanks to the floodlights she'd hauled in before she brought him down here. With every skim of her eyes, every movement of her hands on his waist, every time she dug her thumbs into a new muscle hard enough to ache pleasantly, the air around them grew stagnant and sweltering. 

Shrugging off her leather jacket, Kate tossed the garment onto the nearest surface and returned to what she was doing, skin still on fire.

“Anyway, as I was saying earlier...” Her knees bent just enough to bring her down, lips level with the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. Once her mouth touched skin, she inhaled sharply, and he flooded her senses. “I was just thinking about how the first thing I ever did to you was give you a blowjob. Poor baby. Barely lasted a couple of minutes.”

Derek shut his eyes as if that could stave off the memory.  


It hadn't been his first time being touched by a girl, but no one had ever gotten quite that far yet. He had been nervous. Scared. She comforted him, teased him enough to make him laugh, and then gave him an orgasm that made masturbating fucking _impossible_ to be satisfied with.  


He didn't want this. He didn't want to want it. But he knew he did, he knew he thought of having her on the floor of this very room the moment she dragged him into it and he hated himself for it. How could he still think of her like this?  


“This isn't funny,” he managed, still trying to pull his hips back, but with less conviction. “You made your point; just _stop_.” 

“I don't joke about sex, Derek,” Kate murmured, her lips brushing over his skin with every syllable. Every inhalation brought with it the salty tang of his flesh and the familiar twist of need in her gut. “And there's _nothing_ funny about what I wanna do to you. I hope.”

“Depends on your definition.” Derek swallowed hard, taking in a shaky breath through his nose. “It's funny in a sick way. But that's what we've always been.” His lips were trembling again, but it wasn't with rage, not with the way his eyes were dampening. “A _joke._ ” 

Kate could hear the threat of a break in his voice. His words were strung too tightly together as, if any less would have them breaking apart. She liked him like this. She preferred him angry, but at the end of the day, she was more than willing to work with scared.

Dipping farther down, she passed her tongue over her lips and curled her hands at his hips, holding him as still as she could manage. Her muscles strained when he jerked back one more time (just as weakly as before), and she held him until she could get her lips around the head of his cock. 

Her eyes flicked up to his, wide and shadowed by her brow. One suck – cheeks caved in and tongue curling around the spit-slicked skin – and then another, then a third before her eyelids drooped and a moan shuddered out of her.

Derek made a similar noise, higher in pitch and scraping against his tight throat. He shouldn't be hard. He shouldn't be enjoying the sensation. There had to be something he could do, anything to get her away from him, anything to get free.  


But as her lips slid further down, as she worked her mouth with more and more purpose, Derek started to question if that was what he really wanted. A few years of celibacy and even longer just thinking of her left him with no other option but to react. Kate had his dick twitching within a few strokes.  


“Kate.” God, he never meant to say her name again, let alone whisper it like they were in bed. “Please-- _please_ \--”  


He couldn't get the word _stop_ out, nor could he tell her to keep going. So he stayed quiet, quaking in his chains. 

Kate slowed, then paused completely, swallowing a wash of saliva and pre-cum and the salt of Derek's skin before opening her eyes again. When she looked up at him, she pulled away from his dick, carefully taking him in hand rather than letting him go.

“Use your words, Derek,” she told him, her voice low and thick, rumbling around his name like a growl. It was too pointed to be a purr. She hadn't been capable of purring since before the fire. Once the Hales were dead, she didn't have any reason to other than a carefully applied flirt that meant nothing to a man or two who meant even less. “You still want me to stop?”

Dipping forward again, she slid the tip of her tongue over the slit in the head of his cock, slow and deliberate. “Or do you want me to keep going?”

Derek let out a strangled noise, something caught between what he wanted to be a snarl and what ended up being a sob, hips straining forward now instead of trying to get back.  


“Stop,” he panted out. “I want-- I want you to _stop._ ” He hated that he was lying. That his voice shook like a willow branch in a storm. He hated the woman who seduced him and the monster with her face – if they had ever been different to be begin with.  


Most of all he hated himself. The boy who had fallen for her and the man who couldn't let her go.  


“Haven't you done _enough_ to me?” Derek slumped forward, still holding himself up with the chains, but only just. “Do you need this, too? You need to humiliate me so you can get off? What- what the hell are you trying to prove?”

While Kate didn't return to what she was doing, her hands curled around the back of his thighs, and she stayed close. Near enough that her body felt drawn to his, pulled by something stronger than simple gravity. But if there was a black hole in Derek Hale's chest, she knew that collapsed star was her fault. 

Skating her nails over the skin on the back of his thighs, she licked at her own mouth. His taste was still potent on her tongue – not pleasant, but not terrible. The look on his face made swallowing worth it. “I'm just trying to make you cum, sweetie.”

Her tone was condescending. Artificially sweet. Even so, she couldn't help but lean forward, not bothering to keep her distance, and press a kiss to his shoulder.

“But if you want me to stop, I can. Gotta say... you might regret not getting off later.”

He could have bitten her. She was close enough. Just like how he could have attacked her at his house. Derek could have hunted her down a dozen different ways at a dozen different times; he wasn't stupid enough to think he could take her down, but he could have made her think twice.  


But instead of biting or snarling, he leaned in. Kate didn't even wince, which was the worst of it. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. She had known all along. He missed her too much. Missed being touched. Missed the rasp of her voice and the tilt of her smile and the warmth of her body.  


“Stay.” It was barely a whisper, the word lost on his lips and into her hair. “I— I didn't mean—” Derek could barely swallow with how dry his throat was; when he finally did, it was audible, seeming to echo in the basement. “Stay, Kate.” 

Tilting her head up to look at him, Kate marveled at how close they were. With her hands on his chest and her body pressing his against the bars at his back, it was almost intimate. And when she smiled, the twist of her lips was soft. The swell in her chest was due to a victory, nothing else, but she would never tell Derek that. She would never explain the way she seemed to melt against him or the quickening of her heartbeat. He could make his own conclusions. 

He could form his own truths. 

“Good,” she said, her fingers rubbing over his collarbone before sliding up to curl at the curve of his neck. These were all risks. She knew every inch she moved was one closer to his fangs. But even if he did sink them into her, nothing would happen. She'd survive. She'd live to see another day, something she couldn't say about him.

There was a carefully orchestrated eagerness in the way she conducted herself, rocking up onto the balls of her feet only to kiss over his throat. Down his shoulder. Over his chest. Stopping only to press her forehead against the center of his chest. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

It was an act.  


Derek knew it was false intimacy. Her quickening heart rate was nothing more than pure _glee_ at breaking him. Again. The more she kissed him, the more his stomach twisted. His emotions were too jumbled for him to tell if it was a good sensation or a bad one.  


He wanted her to touch him and kiss him like he was sixteen again. Like his mother was leaving him a dozen messages for skipping school, like Laura was still trying to figure out who his mysterious girlfriend was.  


Derek wanted Kate to love him like he knew she never did.  


His breathing hitched in his throat as he rocked his hips forward, shuddering as his dick slid into Kate's waiting grasp. He knew this was what she wanted. For him to give in, for him to _enjoy_ it and for him to soak in the guilt afterward. So, like so many times before, he complied, giving her the last vestiges of his pride and dignity with each thrust and every pathetic noise that escaped his mouth. 

Kate didn't have the teeth or the jaws of a predator, but she gobbled up every shred offered to her like she was rending flesh from bone. In a way, she knew she was, a reality reflected in the smile she pressed to the curve of Derek's neck. 

Her grip on him tightened. Her fist twisted. Each breath she took, she exhaled hotly against his skin. 

No matter the lies she told him, the relationship she rebuilt with hastily applied mortar, there was one thing she couldn't fake. Not really. Every time her hips shifted, she felt it – the wet, ache between her legs. She wanted him inside of her. She wanted to fuck him until he couldn't keep his eyes open. But that was an impossibility in his current position, and she had no intentions of letting him down.

Her frustration led her to tugging harder on his cock, to licking along his carotid artery, to moaning his name against the curve of his jaw.

Derek's wrists pulled at his manacles, but he has no designs to hurt her anymore. He wanted to touch her. To kiss her, to shove his tongue into her mouth, to make _her_ whimper and moan like he used to when he'd seal his mouth over her cunt and draw designs with his tongue.  


“You still smell incredible,” he moaned, biting on his lower lip harshly, like a punishment for letting it slip out. How could he stop himself when his mouth was watering from the scent of her? Knowing he wouldn't be able to get inside her just drove his hips to greater speeds, fucking her hand as if he was fucking her. “God, Kate, don't-- don't stop!” 

Kate didn't stop. She slowed, and the low groan of annoyance it got out of Derek only made her wetter. “I'm not,” she assured him, the steady pump of her hand tightening around the length of him. Rocking up higher onto her feet, she pressed her body against his, back arching to keep her hips from pressing flush against him. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of what it felt like to have him so close, a gorgeous, thick promise of three orgasms at least. Bless supernatural endurance. 

“I just wanna make you last longer,” she murmured once her lips found the lobe of his ear. “I like watching you cum when it's the only thing you can think about doing.”

Derek was at her mercy, but he wasn't going to let go of an opportunity to fight back. If you could call it that.  


Nuzzling her hair back with his nose, his mouth found the curve of her neck. He had always been affectionate with her, careful with his teeth despite the fact she practically begged him to bite her every chance she got. That wasn't the case now. His chapped lips scraped against her pulse just before his prominent front teeth didn't the same, hard enough to leave a mark.  


Derek slid his tongue upward to her ear, letting out a ragged breath there as he desperately tried to get _more_ from her hand. The languid strokes weren't enough and he was in no position to make her do anything, so instead he bit down on her earlobe and tugged, punctuating the motion with a low noise that shook his chest. 

The bite sent a live wire down between her thighs, and Kate bit out a debauched groan of, “ _Fuck_ ,” before her hand sped up and she was jerking him off again in earnest. But he wasn't letting go. He wasn't pulling back. She wanted to see his face when he came.

“Tell me when you're getting there,” she murmured, her thumb rolling around the head of his cock. “Tell me what you need, sweetie. Let me give it to you.”

“A kiss,” he said without hesitation. Derek didn't believe he'd get what he asked for, but that didn't stop him from leaning in as much as he could, eyes flicking over her face, until he finally locked his gaze with hers. “I want a kiss, and then I'll—” Groaning, he licked his lips, letting his face go slack with a gasp. “I'll cum for you. Just let me have this.” 

Kate peered up at him for a moment that extended just long enough to make Derek believe he really wouldn't get what he asked for. But when she parted her lips and tilted her head, he knew that he would.

The kiss was more easily explained in 'was not's. It wasn't messy. It wasn't over too soon. It wasn't a struggle for the upper hand. It wasn't full of tongue and teeth and desperation. It wasn't the present. It wasn't Derek chained to a set of metal bars. It wasn't Kate threatening to kill his pack.

In short, it was the past.

Kate let go of a quiet noise as their lips met, gently despite the vice grip she had on his cock. He wasn't just kissing a woman wearing nothing but lies and violet lace. She kissed a boy of sixteen, who knew nothing about her family and about her and about what she would do to him. She kissed naivety. She kissed some twisted promise of something easier than weighing a dozen or more lives in the palms of her hands. 

A breath caught in her throat forced her to pull back and away from him, though she remained close enough to watch his eyes dilate and the muscles in his face twitch. She didn't want this. She wanted him to cum so she could leave with that sense of victory intact and untarnished.

The blurring of his vision was what drew him to her mouth again. He didn't care that he asked for one. Didn't care that it might send her running. It was shameful, the way he opened his mouth and slid his tongue into hers, desperate and needy and nothing like the kiss she had given him. Where hers was of a time long since past, his was of the present, knowing full well what he was kissing.  


And what he was kissing was a contradiction. Soft hands patched with calluses. A sweet smile with a razor's edge. Plush thighs that could kill you if she wanted them to. She was an Argent, but not a hunter, not according to them. She was the woman he loved, and she murdered his family.  


She was manipulative and cruel, but all Derek could remember was the steady beat of her heart when she told him she loved him.  


Derek refused to let go of the kiss, even as her grip wrenched an orgasm out of him. Eventually, she forced him away, saw the wet trails on his cheeks, watched him as his body twitched and tightened, as his mouth fell open in pleasure. 

And, as he expected, Kate reveled in it.

Nothing could tear her eyes away from his face. Nothing could keep her from smiling to herself when the floodlight at her back caught the tracks of tears on his cheeks and his body began to shudder and convulse even harder. When she murmured a handful of encouraging words, she pressed close to him again, lips finding his cheek, and whispered a, “You always looked so hot when you came. I'm glad that hasn't changed.”

His nose crinkled in disgust, a pained noise leaving him even as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against hers.  


Derek could feel the tell-tale roil in his stomach, the unmistakable taste of bile at the back of his throat that he had to keep swallowing back despite having no water since he was taken captive. He wanted to curse at her. To take the opportunity to sink his teeth into her throat and tear her apart. He owed his family that, didn't he?  


He pressed his mouth down to her neck and kissed the mark he left just minutes ago.  


There was nothing he could say to her that would change their past, present, or future. So he simply stayed there, in the crook of her neck, shackled in the basement his family died in, willing time to stop. 


End file.
